


First Kiss

by Foxxoul



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Boys Kissing, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26789008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxxoul/pseuds/Foxxoul
Summary: “What? Scared what other people will think?” Achilles is in his space now nose barely a hair away from Patroclus’ own. Achilles’ eyes dart down to his lips, then back up to his wide eyes. “I’m not.” Then, suddenly, he’s leaning forward. His lips brush over Patroclus’, then press ever so slightly.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus of Opus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 200





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little snippet I wrote that is going to be in a fic I plan on write this upcoming National Novel Writing Month
> 
> Also welcome to another installment of please dear god someone teach me how to come up with titles

“Apparently everyone has a bet going that we end up together.” Achilles speaks suddenly, eyes not leaving the worksheet in front of him. Patroclus freezes, grip tightening around his pencil, and looks over at the other boy. 

“What?” He says, voice breathy and not at all what he meant to sound like.

“Everyone thinks we’re going to end up together.” Achilles repeats. He circles something on the paper. Pantroclus wants to stab him. Why is he being so casual about this?  _ How  _ is he being so casual about this? “The track team, your club… I think Briseis is in the pool.” He says, waving his hand as he does. “I heard a rumor that the football team is even getting in on it. Agamemnon is trying, anyway. He has to be.” He says the last part quieter. 

Patroclus stares at him, mouth dropped open in shock and eyes wide. He continues to stare, waiting for Achilles to continue, but he never does. 

Finally, Patroclus sputters, then says, “Why would they think that?”

Achilles shrugs, working his jaw. Patroclus thinks maybe it’s the conversation, maybe he’s that grossed out by the idea of being with Patroclus, but then he’s scribbling something down and his face relaxes. “You raced for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“You were injured!” Patroclus protests. Achilles shrugs again. “No one else would fill in for you.”

“You aren’t even on the team.” Achilles says, something in his voice oddly… soft? “And you ended up getting sick. If you hadn’t—”

“We had to win.” Patroclus’ brows furrow against his will. He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up about this, but he can’t let it go. “I knew you would feel awful if the team was disqualified, so I… What’s that have to do with it anyway? That’s something a friend would do.”

“Maybe.” Achilles half-way agrees, then falls silent again. Patroclus watches as he writes, neat cursive filling the page in a fluid motion, as if he never stops to think, like the words are pouring from his heart. Patroclus’ eyes drift from the paper up to Achilles’ face, gazing at his profile. His nose was maybe prettier now, marred with a scar from his fight with Agamemnon. He’s going to get it fixed, of course. Peleus won’t settle for anything less for his son. (But it’s still nice. Nice to know that it’s a result from a fight over Briseis, who Agamemnon had called a slut. It was sweet that Achilles cared.) His lips were plump, and looked unimaginably plump. And his eyes, bluer than any body of water, clear as the sky…

“Pat?”

“Hm?” Patroclus blinks, then looks down at his own work.

“You were staring.”

“Sorry.” He sees Achilles shake his head from the corner of his eye. “I was just — I got lost in thought.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“What you said earlier.” Patroclus says, then swears at himself for being so  _ honest _ . “It’s just— it’s funny.” 

“Funny?” Achilles asks, something in his face changing, and Patroclus wants to slap himself. “What’s so funny about it?”

“Us. Together. Um… I mean, can you even imagine.” He forces a laugh and ends up sounding like a strangled bird. 

“What’s so weird about it?” Achilles moves closer. Patroclus feels sweat start to form on his neck. 

“Y-you’re a track star. I’m just a nerd from the journalism club.” Patroclus squeaks, voicing a true concern of his. It’s  _ why  _ they would never work. It wasn’t meant to be.

“Pat, we’re both nerds. You know that.” Achilles is sitting right next to him now, their knees pressed together.

“Yeah but—”

“What? Scared what other people will think?” Achilles is in his space now nose barely a hair away from Patroclus’ own. Achilles’ eyes dart down to his lips, then back up to his wide eyes. “I’m not.” Then, suddenly, he’s leaning forward. His lips brush over Patroclus’, then press ever so slightly. Patroclus stays still, heart hammering in his chest.  _ Is Achilles really kissing him? Is he dreaming?  _ Achilles pulls away just as suddenly, a deep frown on his face. “Maybe I was wrong.” He says, then starts to turn back to his paper.

Before Patroclus can stop himself, he’s surging forward, grabbing Achilles’ face in his hands and smashing their lips together. He hears Achilles gasp quietly, but then he’s kissing back just as hard. Achilles slides a hand up Patroclus’ arm, then tangles his fingers in his hair. He holds their faces together as he leans back, holding himself up on his one elbow before dropping completely. Patroclus moves his hands from Achilles’ face to hold himself up.

They finally pull apart, both gasping and panting. Patroclus falls back into a sit and lets out a shaky breath. Achilles’s arm, the one that was in Patroclus’ hair, drops down above his head. His shirt raises a bit and Patroclus has to force his eyes not to wander to the exposed skin. 

“Was that real?” Patroclus asks dumbly. Achilles breathes out a laugh and nods. 

“Yeah.”

“Was— um… Did you like it?” He asks and tugs at the strings of his hoodie. Achilles raises his head and waits for Patroclus to look at him to respond.

“I want you to kiss me again.” 

So Patroclus does. They kiss and they kiss until their lips are red sore, then keep kissing, hands disappearing up each other's shirts and twisting in long clumps of hair. They only stop when they hear the garage door open. Patroclus pulls away quickly, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair to try and fix it. Achilles stays where he is, layed back on the floor, and simply pulls his book and paper up to his face. Patroclus stares at his work with laser focus, not even raising his head to greet Achilles’ father. He’s too scared he’ll see how red his face is and know what they did. 

“Patroclus? Are you alright?” Peleus asks. Patroclus bites his lip, then raises his eyes. 

“Um, yes sir.”

“You’re both so red…” Patroclus looks down at his paper and bites his lip harder.  _ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— _

“We went on a run.” Achilles lies smoothly. “I needed a break. I’ve been on this same assignment for hours.” 

“Okay.” Peleus accepts the response. “Be sure to stay hydrated. I think we might still have some Gatorade in the fridge if you need.”

“Thank you.” Patroclus says softly. He’s aware of Peleus speaking again, to Achilles, then footsteps as he leaves the room. Patroclus lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and looks over at Achilles, who’s grinning at him.

“Are you still scared of my dad?”

“We were  _ making out _ .” Patroclus hisses. Achilles flaps his hand dismissively. “What if he had seen?”

Achilles is quiet for a moment. “Well, he  _ didn’t  _ see. That’s what matters, right?”

“I guess.” Patroclus groans. “I can’t believe— what if it had been your mom?”

“Then you would be dead, I suppose.” Achilles says, finger pressing into his cheek thoughtfully, then laughs. “You need to calm down. They aren’t going to hurt you, Pat.”

“I know, I just…” He trails off. 

“You can’t have your dad knowing.” Achilles says, and when Patroclus nods, sighs. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot what a douche-bag he is.” Patroclus snorts. “I guess you better get home, then. Doesn’t he get off work in…” Achilles looks at the clock. “Fuck. An hour ago?”

“Shit!” Patroclus yells and jumps to his feet. He shoves everything into his bag as quick as he can, then rushes to the door. Achilles follows him, having gotten up while he was packing, and puts his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?” Patroclus asks and turns toward the other boy. Achilles pecks him on the lips, then smiles.

“I… Be safe.” Achilles says. Patroclus nods. As soon as Achilles opens the door, Patroclus is sprinting down the sidewalk.


End file.
